


Anthem for Doomed Youth

by Merlocked18



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Art, Blood, Gen, M/M, Memories, War wounds, World War I, enlisting, pretending to be of age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlocked18/pseuds/Merlocked18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's best friend Arthur Pendragon, who is 3 years older than him, has enlisted in the war effort. Merlin misses his bosom friend and despairs whether he will ever see his beloved Arthur again. One day he sees the poster and a thought forms in his head. He will enlist, too. And, maybe, just maybe  he will join the same regiment as Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin dreams of Arthur as this handsome, accomplished soldier and wishes for nothing more than to join him in battle, fighting the enemy side-by-side.

Arthur signed up as a volunteer in August 1914. Merlin follows in his footsteps in February 1915. He is 15. He lies about his age, and since there is a dire need of reinforcements, they question his young looks no further. He shows great marksmanship in infantry training and is sent to France, to the 7th Division, British III Corps, where accurate shots in trench warfare are direly needed. Since the carnage of the Battles of Mons, Le Cateau, the Aisne and Ypres, the British army was almost wiped out. 

 

He still has found no information on Arthur's whereabouts. Merlin doesn't know for sure if Arthur is still alive.

 

He doesn't dare ask his commanding officers, afraid that this will draw undue attention to him. 

 

The thought of finding his beloved friend is the only thing keeping him alive in the muddy, rat-infested trenches.


	2. Not So Charmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is wounded and believes he can see Arthur.

Merlin thought he had been charmed. He had dodged every enemy bullet, every shrapnel, trench foot, dysentery, and his rat bites had never got infected.

But he hadn't been charmed. He was perched on lookout when an enemy grenade landed nearby. Merlin was hit by shrapnel and gravel and flew backwards by the force of the detonation.

He lay there.

The sounds of war had disappeared.

He knew his eyes were closed. The left side of his head felt on fire. He couldn't move.

 

"Hey, you!"

"Idiot!"

Merlin tried to open his eyes, but they felt glued shot.

 

"Arthur, is that you?" he croaked.

"Idiot!"

"Arthur, I..."

"Don't try to talk. You almost drowned. Why did you jump into the river if you couldn't swim?"

 

That summer in 1911 had seen the most formidable heatwave. People were dying from heatstroke, and a lot of people actually slept outdoors, in nothing but their undergarments. Merlin's mum had told him to stay out of the sun and dab at his face with a wet flannel, regularly. Merlin hadn't really found that very effective.

He had decided to go down to the river to cool off instead. He liked sitting on the little jetty down there and dangle his feet in the water, but when he approached his favourite spot, he saw three older boys there. They were larking about on Merlin's jetty. They wore fancy swimming costumes, the likes of which Merlin could have only dreamt about. 

They seemed to be having a gay old time, throwing each other into the water.The sun was scorching, and he envied the boys their ability to jump right in.

Merlin couldn't swim, no one had ever taught him. 

The ginger boy seemed the oldest, the black-haired one the most energetic, and the blond one...well, the blond one...

Finally the boys left the jetty altogether and began swimming across the river in some sort of race. Merlin walked out onto the jetty and sat down on the very edge, with his feet just about reaching the water.

He watched the boys until the world went the topsy-turvy and things got very wet, apparently.

"Are you sure you can manage to walk home, little squirt?"

 

Merlin couldn't answer. His lungs were still trying to heave for air. He felt nauseous and he had a splitting headache. Damned heatstroke, and what a place to succumb to one!

"Well, I can teach you to swim, so I don't have to save you again."

 

Merlin could only gape.

 

"I'm Arthur."


	3. The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is taken to a field hospital.

 

"You are awake."

Merlin must have been taken to the nearby field hospital. A doctor was staring at him.

"What happened?" he croaked. His throat was dry like a sandpit.

 

"You were injured and lost your left ear."

"I lost..."

"Well, almost. I managed to sew it back on."

Merlin gingerly patted his ear through the thick layers of bandages, checking whether the doctor was telling him the truth. Arthur would have rejoiced had he lost the protruding monstrosity, often had he jested about them.

Arthur...

What would Arthur say if he knew Merlin was in a field hospital. Would he be upset?

 

 

"Is your name really Melvin Harris?"

Merlin focused on the doctor, who was looking at him intently still.

"You are not of age." 

 

 

 


	4. What were you thinking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Lance Eliot talks with his young patient and manages to lure the truth out of him.

 

"What of your parents? Do they know you are here?"

 

Merlin didn't want to answer.

It had been a foolish thing to do. He knew that, however, the thought of joining Arthur had completely consumed him. He had followed his heart and left his home. 

 

 

The doctor wouldn't let him be.

"Your family must be worried for you."

It was as if the doctor was digging around in his stomach, not changing his bandages. Merlin squirmed on the bed. 

"My father is dead," Merlin managed with a wince as the stitches of his ear were disturbed.

 

"I'm sorry to hear that. And your mother?"

Merlin gasped as the bandage was pulled from the wound. 

 

 

The picture of his mother adorned the mantle piece of their little cottage back home.

It was very rare to have one's portrait taken, but his mother's employer, Mr. Stevens and his wife had always been very fond of Merlin's mother and pleased with her work as their house-keeper that they had wanted to show their gratitude with an appointment to the local photographer. Hunith had graciously declined, but Merlin had convinced her otherwise, because he had told her she was very beautiful.  

Merlin often looked at that picture. 

 

He hadn't seen it for a long time.

 

 

He had always thought his mother's eyes were the most gentle eyes in the world.

 

 

_ How could he have done this to his mother? _

 

 

"What is your name?"

 

"Merlin..."

 

"And your last name?"

 

Merlin swallowed his tears.

 

"Emrys." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is the title of a famous war time poem by Wilfred Owen, in which he describes poignantly, how the young men of a country were sent to war like cattle.  
> I can't believe the young still are sent to die... when will people ever learn?


End file.
